They Called Him Dragon of the West
by peter pan's horcrux
Summary: Tea (the prince shudders) is nothing more than hot leaf juice and he has plenty of firewhiskey if he wants to scald his throat on bitter drinks. Cover image credit goes to EagleOfTheStar.
1. white violets

"Children see magic because they look for it."

―Christopher Moore,_ Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal_

* * *

**_white violets_**~*

_(and tender innocence)_

Once, in a courtyard that no longer exists, Iroh found laughter.

The girl was smaller than he, perhaps a year or two younger, but her smile was big enough to reach beyond her cheeks and tug out his own.

Her mirth bubbled contagiously in her throat, and when she would throw back her head to relinquish it to the air, fiery tresses sweeping from her shoulders, Iroh's had no choice but to burst from his chest and keep it company.

It was a sound unfamiliar to him at first; one that he had never known to accompany him down tall palace corridors or sit with him on his father's right hand in the smouldering heat of the throne room. Not until her arrival.

It took a bit of getting used to; to allow his mouth to split into a grin that curled around these squeals of delight that gasped from his lungs and split his sides in the rush of their game.

Her smile was like a slice of the milky white moon that the spirits had carved specially for him to hold in his palms for safe keeping. And it was a duty he learned to revel in.

He would report to his post at the same time as she; just after calligraphy classes in the hour before he had to go for his bending lessons. He would salute her like their fathers saluted each other as they entered their grown-up war meetings, and she would always laugh at him and call him Admiral as she bowed.

_General_, he would remind her almost every day. _General!_ _Admirals just paddle around in their silly boats, Generals are the brave ones who actually get the fighting done!_

She would only giggle some more, her round eyes creased with her smile as she snatched his hand and ran.

They were soldiers and captains and, above all else, they were royalty in the noblest and most fantastic sense of the word. Branches discarded by trees on the lawn became their loyal weapons of steel and flames. Smooth white rocks from the pond became the magical talismans they fought valiantly to retrieve. A small footbridge disintegrated each day to a rickety rope ladder swaying precariously over a boiling volcano. Her pale red robes would billow into the gowns of warrioresses and his modest prince's headpiece became the elaborate ornament of a king supreme. She would giggle with glee as they sprung upon the branches of their foes and he would chuckle when she stumbled on the roots that were rigged precisely to the size of her small toes. Her hair was her cape - the crimson of a true hero's valour - that tailed them as he grabbed her hand and tugged her over her fumbling steps to charge headlong into a new battle. Their hour together each day became a lifetime in itself.

Some days the battles fell forfeited when stern-lipped men came to whisk the prince away for the various commitments he had been born to. He always felt helplessly cruel abandoning his happy comrade for the grey tutors and governesses who never had a smiling word to give.

But Iroh found his torturous lessons were always a little more bearable after he'd felt the moon's warmth at midday.

Against all odds, laughter became his secret friend.

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry. ****The chapters will definitely get longer. I wanted this one to be longer, but it wasn't working, and I was eager to put it up and get this story rolling... I promise they'll get longer and better as we go!**

**So yeah. Let me know what you think?**

**Also, amazing cover image credit goes to EagleOfTheStar on Deviantart! Like, actually, so so much credit; this artwork is amazing!**


	2. daisies

"I'm afraid that sometimes

You'll play lonely games too

Games you can't win

'Cause you'll play against you."

―Dr Seuss, _Oh, the Places You'll Go_

* * *

_**daisies~***_

_(and youthful impatience)_

It was the year his younger brother was born that it occurred to him how very close she lived.

Only a few short distressed strides across marbled pavement from the palace gateway could carry him to the front pillars of her father's manor, and he was very quickly very grateful.

Ten years of being an only child had ill-prepared the Prince for Ozai's arrival, which he perceived as rude and untimely. And he just couldn't understand why such a fuss was made over something that kept the whole upper ring awake at nights with its persistent and meaningless shrieks. How should a wriggly infant who did ought to command his bowel movements command so much attention? Especially attention that had already belonged to another Fire Prince.

_At least I_, he would huff to the girl, his head on his fists and his elbows on the railing, _can wipe the drool off my own chin_.

She had five little sisters, though, and would always tell him that he was the real baby, getting all sulky and upset because no-one smiled at his dimples and pinched his cheeks anymore.

He would sulk and _harrumph_ and tell him he didn't need anyone to pinch his cheeks; he was a real warrior, the first prince, and that deserved respect. _At least I get to be Fire Lord_, was always his final patient remark.

The days she retorted to this were the days she was feeling brave enough of him to best his worst.

_You're a real girl sometimes, you know? A real prissy fusspot!_ It was these kinds of insults that got on Iroh's nerves the worst, and the girl never ceased to find joy in pressing this button. Behind ribboned curtains that hid her profile from his daggered glare, she would smirk. _You're a bigger baby than Ozai._

His scowl was wicked and his face redder than the flames he so horribly wished he could bend. _What would a peasant like you know about anything?_

_I know the difference between a boy and a baby which is more than you know!_ Her hip and shoulder would cock when she said this, her eyebrows challenging her seething playmate. And from there the insults would be hurled with a growing ferocity until he - and it was always the boy - roared with frustration and stormed from the house, only to return early the next day with a sincere apology under his lonely frown.

_Maybe I am just a big ol' baby_, he would say to her when she opened the door.

She would push it open wide and shrug and smile at him._ You are, but so is everyone sometimes._ Then she would grab his hand and pull him into their brave worlds where Ozai was always at least a country away from him and her lips were allowed to form demands that overruled even his. This was his quiet way of showing gratitude for her temperance of quick forgiveness.

One day, in the middle of a particularly heated squabble, she leaned in and kissed him right on the mouth where she would normally call him a scum-ridden jelly-toad.

Iroh's mouth fell, stuck open on its hinges and his eyes had looked to her like they were going to pop out of his head, as big as an actual jelly-toad's. They stared at each other like the moon watched the earth before his eyes deflated under eyebrows like javelins.

She frowned right on back at him, her brows were far lighter than his but all the roaring intensity of a furnace was within her eyes. Her father often said that even dragons would obey the little girl when she frowned.

He wiped her kiss off of his mouth with the back of his sleeve and a yelp of delayed disgust. _What was that for?_

_You were making me angry._

_Angry? So you kissed me?!_

_Because you're a big fat idiot sometimes but also because I still care about you and I don't know which one is more important for you to understand._

His mouth floundered a few times, reminding her of an elephant koi. His face was blotchy pink and his fists had turned white. There were several silent moments while he rebuilt his steam before finally bursting, _You're so weird! Why would you kiss me, you squish-brained girl?_

It had been the only fight to see her storm off first, and the only fight to see them make up in the same day.

And it was on that balcony that no longer exists, with a view of the world that would all one day be his, that Iroh learnt to hold the gentle hand of humility.

**Author's Note: I'M SO SORRY THESE FIRST FEW CHAPTERS ARE SETTING UP HIS EARLY HISTORY I PROMISE THEY WILL GET LONGER AND HOPEFULLY A LOT BETTER AND LESS TAME AND I AM TYPING IN CAPS BECAUSE THIS STUPID DOC MANAGER KEEPS DELETING MY AUTHOR'S NOTES AND IT IS ALMOST MORE INFURIATING THAN MY LACK OF TALENT FOR WRITING.**

**Thanks to everyone who's read this, and a special shout out to Harky21 for being a babe and always reviewing my awkward babblings with the utmost sweetness!**

**Please drop me a review if you have any speculations/criticisms/extra energy in the fibres of your being that would best be exerted in the manner of making my day!**

**Hope your day is going as wonderfully as your smile :)**


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